CHAPTER 1
INTRODUCTION
Through this book, I hope to help those having difficulty withtheir life.
I am a practicing psychologist that has, now for fourteen years,put on seminars with that objective. The seminars empowerparticipants to realize their dreams and potential, while betterenjoying their lives through making changes. Making changesto one's outlook on and attitudes to life, changes that affectevery dimension of one's life, is not easy. Yet, it is necessary ifone wants to discover and live the happier life they want and arebest suited for.
Before anyone can make changes in their life, they have tounderstand where they came from. Memories of past experiences,both happy and unpleasant, need to be retrieved from ourmemory banks (our brains). Once retrieved, those memories canbe assessed and reassessed, and we can decide, yes decide, totake their power away if they are interfering with our present.Memories of past events, whether conscious or absent in ourconscience, drive our reactions to present events, and eitherfacilitate or restrict our options and actions.
In this book, I begin by reviewing my own early life. I describe theconditions and events that affected my childhood, siblings andother family members. I speculate on the events that eventuallyled me to who I am, what I have done, and what I do now. Bybeing open about my own life, I hope to engender your trust, soas to better allow you to consider my specific recommendationsfor your gaining and maintaining a better, happier and morepurposeful, life.
And, after reviewing my experiences (reclaiming memories,re-wiring my brain for success, and obtaining my academicqualifications), I report on how my empowerment seminarscame about. After relating the case histories of some of thepast participants in the seminars, I then provide, through twentyone assignments, including a self-agreement, a guide for thosewilling and determined to undertake self-help `work' towardschanging their lives for the better.
Even if, through undertaking the assignments, you only come tohave a better understanding of your feelings and the obstaclesthat you either have had or are now encountering, I suspect youwill 'change', and will begin to live a happier, more fulsome andpurposeful life. And, beyond that, through the 'assignments'I provide the means to free yourself of emotional burdensthat may have been holding you back from the fulsome andenjoyable life that you should and could have—a life that willnot only enhance your own happiness and purpose in life, butalso enhance the lives of those around you, particularly thoseyou care most about.
The idea for this book arose out of my empowerment seminars.My friends and associates have helped me design and hold theseminars on a regular basis. Over the years, an innumerablenumber of people have attended and been helped.
By your reading of the obstacles that I have encountered andhow I managed to overcome them, and by your working yourway through the 'assignments', my hope for you is that you toowill rewire your brain and then enjoy your life journey since weonly do it once (as far as we can remember!). So make everyday count and when you get to the end of the journey you cansigh with relief that you did have a fulfilling life!
CHAPTER 2
HERE I AM, LESSONSLEARNED
After all the time that has come and gone in my life, and thinkingas to what I can offer others from what I have learned (fromthe experiences of my own life's journey), I have come to therealization that the simple process of living, which involvesinnumerable challenges and obstacles requiring constantchanges, serves as a common denominator for everyone.
This allows the possibility that by my recounting my experiencesand reflections, I can act as a catalyst to assist others as theycomplete their own life's journey.
I am in front of my computer, letting my fingers do the talking. Ihave had a life of learning, one full of changes and surprises. Ihave almost experienced too many `twists and turns' during mylife's journey to-date to recall. And, often at the time the "twistsand turns" occurred, I was unable to explain how or why theyhad come about. Yet, now, some of those `twists and turns' makesense, looking at the events from the vantage point of the `hereand now'.
As to some other events, I have yet to make sense of them. Forthem, I must accept that this is not the time for me to know the`why' of those `happenings'. I expect everything will be revealedto me in time, but just not now.
When I look back in my life, I realize that in every circumstanceI was never alone. Either something or someone was guidingme, even during the hardest of times. This was especially truewhen I was young, then very much feeling alone and withoutgreat support. Now, years later, with the advantage that comeswith experience and much reflection, I realize that I was neverreally, absolutely, alone.
Somehow, even in the worst of times, the person or persons Ineeded showed up, and at the right time to make a difference.Fortunately, I have always been a good listener, and I haveapplied the learning I was fortunate to receive at every step ofmy journey.
Early Years
My first memory I recall has me standing on my father's feet,dancing to loud music. Was that the day my mind truly openedto this world? I remember going around and around and feelingdizzy, in awe, dancing, moving easily with the rythm.
My father was a real character. He loved life and was alwaysdoing fun things with us, his family, I am sure my brother hashis own happy memories of those much too brief time withour father. But, as my sister was a baby when my father died,unfortunately, she doesn't have those memories of him.
If I close my eyes and focus on my childhood memories, I goback to the house we lived in. Though I would then have beenonly two or three years old. I remember the big hallways, heavydoors and huge furniture (furniture so big that I couldn't climb intobed, and had to get a stool). Everything in our house now seemsto have been big and heavy, No surprise, given my then-age.The sink faucets were out of reach for me, I couldn't get a sip ofwater on my own. As for the cabinets, I was unable to fit my handaround the handle to open them; my hand was much too small.
I remember lining up for candy. The candy ceremony happenedwhen dad came home from work, and he was the only one witha key for the cabinet that contained the treasured loot. We knewwhen he was coming home. "Biddu", our shaggy black and greydog, would run around and around the house seconds beforedad opened the door and loudly announced his return.
Our routine was always the same. Right after father showed up,Biddu would rush to be first in line for the candy. We had nochance to out-race Biddu. I remember the hallways `doubling'in size every time I ran to the cabinet, always losing the race toBiddu. Nobody, not even my brother who was (and still is) biggerand faster than me, and able to open the cabinet doors with onlyone of his hands, could beat Biddu.
By the time I got to the cabinet, Biddu had already got his treat.If I tried to get ahead of Biddu, he would peel back his teeth as ifhe saying "don't you dare take my spot". Yet, he never bit any ofus, though for me his sneer was enough to wet my cheeks withtears. In the end, I had to accept being either second or third inline, my placement depending on how generous my brother wasthat day (my baby sister was not part of the race).
I also remember being carried on my father's shoulders as wecame home on Sunday evenings after either having had a fullday of fun at the park or from visiting our grandparents. I wasso tired I could no longer walk and would fall asleep on the bus.When it was time to walk the rest of the way home, I would cryand dad would place me on his shoulders.
Great memories! Yet, I remember that my crying was required. IfI didn't cry, I had to walk (like a "big girl") the three blocks fromthe bus stop to our house.
Funny thing, now looking back, while my baby sister musthave been there she is not anywhere to be found in my earliestmemories. Perhaps I had inadvertently chosen to ignore her, asshe was not part of the `candy line-up'. As well, she was too smallto be carried on my father's shoulders.
Another possibility comes to mind. It is possible that I havedifficulty recalling her in those early scenes of my childhoodbliss because she was my `competition' from the day she wasborn until my maturity. Likely, in the walks to and from the bus,she was just bundled up and put in a stroller. She definitely wasin my blind spot, then, leaving Biddu and my older brother in therecalled scenes of my very early life.
The strongest of my early memories is of an event that led to thefirst 'major turn' in my life. It is of a day when I stood on a kitchenstool so I could reach the sink. I wanted to wash my hands beforemy dad got home and the candy ceremony took place. And, thatday, I was excited to show him my new school uniform. In a fewmonths, I would start school and a neighbour had just broughtme my uniform so I could try it on. (She had hand-sewed theuniform for me, it must have taken her some time to do!)
From my stand on the stool, I saw a group of people bringinga sobbing woman into our house. Who was she? Why is shecrying? Why are so many other people coming into our house?Why is nobody paying any attention to me? Where is my dad? Iwant dad right now!
Tragedy
With time, I have been able to better piece my memories together,allowing me to realize what was actually happening and why.The sobbing woman was my mother. My father had died that dayin a hospital emergency room, and nobody knew why. To thisday, I am still unaware of the exact cause of his early departurefrom our lives.
As usual, over the weekend we had visited my grandparents.This time, my dad fell ill and my mom took him to the hospital'semergency clinic. My aunt brought me home and stayed withme overnight. My brother was taken to another aunt's home. Idon't recall where my baby sister went, probably she was leftwith our grandparents
My mother was only 29 when her husband died. Today, sixty-fouryears later, I still don't know the medical cause for why my fatherleft us so suddenly. In those days, nobody told you anything. Ifsomebody died, too bad: "... your husband is dead, go home"was the approach.
So, no one bothered to explain to us what had happened to him,even though providing the reason for his death would have onlytaken an extra minute or so, and would have helped our familymake some sense of the cause of our new reality.
That day my life changed, dramatically and forever.
As I recall that moment now, I had a typical childhood reaction,I feared I was the cause, maybe I did something very wrong andmy dad decided to leave. No more running around, riding on hisshoulders or candy line-ups. And to top it all off, Biddu died twodays after my father passed away.
I always wonder what my life would have been if my father hadn'tleft us so early and so suddenly. Or, what would be my life if Iwas born into a totally different family, or if my mother had beenmore skillful in raising three young children, including a baby,on her own. What I do know is that my life took a different paththat day, leading to who I am today.
When my dad died, I was three or four. I know that because Iwas going to start school, children normally began some sort ofschooling at or about the age of four in Chile.
I became very excited that day, when my mom was brought intothe house, sobbing. One of the women helping my mother toldme that my father had died. I cannot recall my feelings, only mylooking around not knowing what to think or what to feel. Likely,I was too little to even understand the meaning of death.
I was very confused and did not know what to do, so I stoodon that stool for a long time. While I was getting tired, I didn'tknow what I would do if I got off the stool. I did realize that myuniform was getting wrinkled and wet, and I may have knownthat I shouldn't keep it on for the whole day.
Another thought I recall is that I couldn't wait to tell my brotherthat our father had died. I knew he was at our aunt's home, butI wanted to be the first to tell him. Soon after, my aunt broughthim home and I ran to tell him the news. When he began to cry,I couldn't understand why.
At that age, I lacked the concepts of loss, sadness, death, evenpain. Does this seem strange to you? It does for me, even now.
I had been a three or four year old happy little girl waiting for herdad to come and see her in her new uniform, a uniform that bythat time was dirty and wrinkled. I kept it on, still thinking I wouldshow it to dad, and nobody bothered to take it off. Not that day,nor the following day. I don't think my brother or me put on ourpajamas that night, or for the next few nights.
Funeral and Flowers
On the day of the funeral, I was happy and excited. There weremany visitors (neighbours, our grandparents, uncles and aunts)at my house. I moved my little stool around so I could bettersee what was going on. I looked to see who was there and whatwas happening. I carried my stool into the kitchen, then to thebathroom. There, I washed my hands and face by myself. And,then, with my stool, I went to the living room, which had flowersall over and around my father's coffin.
I remember standing on my stool beside my father's coffin andthinking: "What are you doing in there, daddy? And, why are yousleeping in the living room? Why don't you go to bed?"
I now realize that I was then oblivious to the sadness aroundme. I remained that happy little girl with a stool that made metaller and more visible everywhere I moved it to. Flowers, manyflowers, all types of smells were all through the house, with me(with my little stool) having fun, reaching all the places I wantedto reach. Nobody was telling me not to do it.
I felt totally in control—of place, time, everything!
Connections
I have never liked flowers. Today, I can piece together memoriesof my father's passing and better understand why I am not toofond of flowers. Flowers don't bring me joy or happiness; theycreate "a blank" in my 'feeling' memory.
When my husband went into the flower business, this about 20years ago, I thought it as a somber business. I couldn't imaginewho would want to sell flowers. For me, flowers are linked to myfather's funeral and the sobbing woman. Flowers signify, for me,times of sadness, loss and pain.
Yet, over the last twenty years I have discovered that peoplelove flowers. And, that flowers are not just attached to death andsadness, but also to celebrations, birthdays, happy moments,special times, or, just because! It is good to accept that flowerscan be uplifting, rather than being wanted only for the saddestmoments of life.
It is only now that I can appreciate the pleasant meaning offlowers for others. But, for me, I cannot, at least on an emotionallevel, relate flowers to feelings of happiness, celebrations andgood times. I still see flowers as being associated with confusion,loss, sadness, pain. My feeling about flowers is more apt for afour-year old, one forced to deal with the difficult and painfulcircumstances of that time.
So, at the age of four my life changed dramatically, but I didn'tknow that then. Now, I can recall the `sobbing woman' sitting atthe edge of a gigantic bed, with a baby lying right beside her. Ittook time until I was finally able to link that memory with my babysister, who had disappeared until then from my memories ofthat time. Before, much later, and recognizing what was actuallygoing on, the `picture' in my head left out my baby sister. I hadfocused on an image of a sobbing woman, an image that hadbecome so strong it became part of me.
Much later in my life, I finally understood the cause of the ratherblank feeling that flowers bring to me. That feeling was exactlywhat I had felt when I was introduced to flowers at the age offour, upon my father's death.
One element of what I have learned about that time in my life(when I was four and my father had died), is the complexity of themind. That complexity is evidenced by its ability, years later, topiece times and events together. Memories determine how oneperceives events, with aspects of later events with similaritieswith earlier initial experiences affecting current memory. Futureevents become grounded in memories of the past, so the past,as we recall it, varies as time moves on.
The major event of my early years, the death of my father,triggered my later role as a strategist in life. Somehow or atleast partially because of the early loss of my father, I becameprematurely resourceful. In a way as I grew older, I took on therole of caregiver, both for my mom and my siblings.
